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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460927">Lemon Herring Smørrebrød</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinraz/pseuds/robinraz'>robinraz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Aching Bones, Aching Hearts [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic Character, Autistic Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Childbirth, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Congenital Disability, Disability, Disabled Character, Disabled Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Gen, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Pregnancy, Trans Snusmumriken | Snufkin, coming up on I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant, mild graphic content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:42:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinraz/pseuds/robinraz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Snufkin often went to the hot springs when he was in pain. If he pushed himself too hard on a hike, if he slept in the wrong position and couldn’t get up, if a food he thought was safe suddenly disagreed with him.</p><p>Snufkin suspected it was parsnips this time. He’d been having bouts of belly pain for days; Moomintroll insisted that Snufkin leave. “Just go and take a soak. You’ll feel better—you always do.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annikki I (Moomins OC) &amp; Uncle Fillyjonk (Moomins OC), Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Original Character &amp; Original Character, Snusmumriken | Snufkin &amp; Annikki I (Moomins OC), Snusmumriken | Snufkin &amp; Annikki II (Moomins OC), Snusmumriken | Snufkin &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Aching Bones, Aching Hearts [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In Which Four Strangers are Met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey just so you know this piece has kind of graphic depictions of labor—nothing bloody but descriptions of the pain and injuries common to the process. Feel free to dip out and I’ll see you next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snufkin often went to the hot springs when he was in pain. If he pushed himself too hard on a hike, if he slept in the wrong position and couldn’t get up, if a food he thought was safe suddenly disagreed with him.</p><p>Snufkin suspected it was parsnips this time. He’d been having bouts of belly pain for days; Moomintroll insisted that he go out. “Just go and take a soak. You’ll feel better—you always do.” Snufkin hesitated; he hadn’t gone to the springs since Inge was born. That child was of relation to Little My, no doubt about it. He loved him dearly, but he was so grateful he would be old enough to hibernate this year.</p><p>But Moomintroll insisted. He could take care of Inge for a day. It wouldn’t be an issue. And if he needed help, he could always ask Moominmamma or Snorkmaiden, who had assumed to role of “fun aunt” with gusto.</p><p>So Snufkin left.</p><p>The springs would do him good.</p><p>He began to undress: his hat, his coat, his boots, his trousers.</p><p>And then his entire body was in agony.</p><p>Snufkin spent most of his life in pain. In his joints, in his muscles, in his back. But the pain that erupted through him now was like nothing he had ever felt before—not when he tore a ligament in his foot, not when he was terribly dehydrated and got kidney stones, not when he messed up cliff-diving and broke his femur. Snufkin was certain that pain like this had never existed before this moment. It was as if his pelvis was shattered and he was being split apart, the burning radiating from his hips all the to his scalp.</p><p>What was happening?</p><p>It was as if he was being eviscerated by some invisible beast.</p><p>Was he going to die?</p><p>It really felt as if he was going to die.</p><p>And then it stopped.</p><p>Snufkin breathed as if he had never needed air so badly in his life, like a fish who had suddenly grown lungs.</p><p>What was happening to him?</p><p>Snufkin reached his paw down to where the pain was coming from, checking for swelling, for blood, for some gaping hole in his body that would explain what just happened.</p><p>His back was fine. His hips were fine. His belly was fine. Too alarmed to care about decency, Snufkin slipped his paw through the split in his drawers.</p><p>And there was some sticky liquid dribbling down his thighs.</p><p>Oh dear, did he wet himself? Such a thing could happen given the intense episode he just experienced, but it was nonetheless embarrassing. Snufkin kept examining.  </p><p>And his heart dropped into his belly.</p><p>Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh no no no <em>no no no no</em>—this couldn’t be happening. It was impossible? How could he not know?</p><p>He was in labor.</p><p>Snufkin froze before being taken over by another wave of agony.</p><p>He tried to focus on breathing. In, out. In, out. He felt like a little dinghy stuck out in a hurricane, battered relentlessly by crashing waves.</p><p>In.</p><p>Out.</p><p>In.</p><p>Out.</p><p>The pain passed.</p><p>Contractions.</p><p>That was the pain he was feeling for the past few days: false labor. Snufkin cursed his foolishness. How could he not have noticed? How long had he been carrying? Would it be okay? He had been drinking, smoking, not minding his food. What if his own ignorance doomed this child before it even took a breath in this world?</p><p>No! He couldn’t think of that now.</p><p>What Snufkin needed was help. He stumbled out of the spring’s clearing and onto the main path, praying that some-one was near.</p><p>On the dirt path, another contraction slammed into him. He would have fallen over if not for the line of birch trees beside him. Snufkin heard screaming. Who was screaming?</p><p>The pain faded. Snufkin realized his claws had gutted the poor tree. He could only mourn that for a moment, though, as he saw a tall figure approaching him.</p><p>The stranger, a Fillyjonk man with a narrow mustache and argyle sweater, reached out to Snufkin.</p><p>“Are you alright?” The Fillyjonk asked.</p><p>Snufkin swallowed, mouth dry, before shaking his head. “I don’t mean to impose, but could you please help me?”</p><p>“Are you hurt? What do you need?” The man searched him over with his small eyes. What a sight Snufkin must have looked, in his shirt and drawers, socks with no shoes, his coat bundled up in his arms.</p><p>Snufkin looked a few inches to the left of the Fillyjonk’s face. “There seems to be a, uh…” He sputtered. “It appears I’m in labor. Could you help me?”</p><p>The Fillyjonk’s mouth fell open. “You’re giving birth?!”</p><p>Snufkin nodded.</p><p>The Fillyjonk shook his head. “Er, my niece is a nurse! Well, she will be—she’s going to school in Helsinki. But she’s visiting now for her mother’s birthday.”</p><p>A far cry from a midwife, but it would have to do. “How fast can you get her?”</p><p>“Our house is a ten-minute walk away.” The Fillyjonk bounced from foot to foot.</p><p>Snufkin chewed his lip. “Run and make it five.”</p><p>Off the Fillyjonk went.</p><p>And Snufkin was alone once more.</p><p>Many times, Snufkin needed to be alone. Right now was not one of them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Fillyjonk ran in through the trees, some contraption hoisted above his head. A narrow figure followed behind: a mymble carrying a large tackle box in one paw and a bundle of blankets, pillows, and tarps in the other.</p><p>The mymble dropped all her belongings on the ground while the Fillyjonk set up the contraption into a cot, which was quickly transformed into a nest. As she worked, the dappled lights through the trees shone on her crown of red braids. Her nimble fingers opened up the tackle box, revealing a trove of medical supplies. Snufkin saw her lips move, talking to herself under her breath. The image didn’t exactly inspire confidence.</p><p>She offered her paw to Snufkin. It was shaking. “What’s your name, ma’am?”</p><p>Snufkin wrinkled his nose. “Sir,” he corrected. “Snufkin.”</p><p>Anna smiled, warm with dimples. “Anna.” She tilted her head. “And between us, we’re one and the same.”</p><p>Snufkin met her eyes, seeing the smallness of her antennae, a small grin on his lips. He shook her paw.</p><p>Anna sat Snufkin down on the cot. “You’re a mumrik, yes?”</p><p>“Half.” Snufkin leaned back, a touch more comfortable. “My mother’s a mymble.”</p><p>Anna chuckled. “Any chance we’re of relation then?”</p><p>That got a laugh from Snufkin, probably more than it deserved. “There’s always a chance there.”</p><p>Anna pulled a pen out of her pants pocket. She dug a bit through her supplies. “Do you have a piece of paper?” She asked, to no-one in particular.</p><p>Snufkin shook his head; all his things were still at the hot springs.</p><p>“Oh!” The Fillyjonk pulled his checkbook out and handed it to his niece, who quickly began scribbling, looking upwards every few words like she was trying to see the thoughts still in her head. She clicked the pen and shoved it in her plait.</p><p>She turned to her uncle. “Setä, could you go back home and grab everything on this list?”</p><p>“Don’t you need me here?”</p><p>“What I <em>need</em> is a hospital but we’re too far away and Snufkin can’t move so you are bringing the hospital to me.”</p><p>The Fillyjonk’s eyes were wide, the look Snufkin saw in the mail-man as he realized he sprung another one of Little My’s traps. He bounced a few times before sprinting off.</p><p>Anna rearranged her setup, adjusting tools and draping a blanket over Snufkin’s legs. “Who’s the father? The, uh, other father?”</p><p>“My partner.”</p><p>Oh, Moomintroll…. What would he think? They had their paws full with Inge, in the thick of his terrible twos. Not to mention his constant chewing and ruining of all their furniture. Now on top of that, they would have to care for a newborn?</p><p>“Oh, he’ll be so cross with me for doing this without him…” Snufkin whined to himself.</p><p>The mymble shook her head. “What creature is he?”</p><p>“Moomin. He’s a moomin.”</p><p>Anna grimaced. “I was hoping you’d say a mymble or a fillyjonk or something. I’ve never seen a troll born before.”</p><p>Snufkin laughed nervously, clenching his paw into his shirt. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”</p><p>A soft chuckle. “Have you had a baby before?”</p><p>“Yeah, almost two years ago.”</p><p>“And that went well?”</p><p>Snufkin frowned slightly. “He had the cord around his neck at first, but he was fine.”</p><p>Anna’s shoulders relaxed a touch. “Okay, uh, good. That’s good.” She bobbed her head, clearly reassuring herself more than anything.</p><p>“I’m sorry we can’t put you in twilight,” she said.</p><p>Snufkin shook his head. “I didn’t need it last time and I don’t need it now.”</p><p>Anna clearly tried to hold back her surprise. “You didn’t go to a hospital?”</p><p>“I don’t care for doctors.”</p><p>Anna hummed.</p><p>“Sorry,” Snufkin muttered.</p><p>The mymble wasn’t offended. “It’s harder for us.”</p><p>Snufkin gave a small nod.</p><p>Anna tugged on her ear and straightened out the blanket across Snufkin’s knees. “I need to do a cervical exam now, so I’m going to have to take a look and, uh, touch you.”</p><p>Snufkin crumpled his brow. “Uh, sure. Go ahead.” He adjusted his position and ignored the rising embarrassment.</p><p>Anna snapped gloves on her paws. Snufkin closed his eyes, pretending her touch wasn’t there. She palpated him carefully.</p><p>And suddenly she paused. Her eyes widened.</p><p>“Oh, uh, wow, okay.”</p><p>Those were not words Snufkin wanted to hear. “What-what’s wrong?” He tried to sit up despite his terrible soreness. “Anna, talk to me.”</p><p>“The, uh….” The Mymble shook her head. She felt more carefully. “It’s breech. The baby is frank breech.”</p><p>Snufkin shuddered. “What does that mean, Anna?” He failed to fight the panic growing inside him.</p><p>Anna squeezed her eyes. “It’s presenting wrong—it’s supposed to be head-first, but it’s bum-first, kinda folded in half.” Anna removed her paws and gestured in way of explanation. Snufkin tried not to focus on the mess on her latex-covered paws.</p><p>“Well, you can fix it, right? You can flip them?” This wasn’t happening this wasn’t happening this wasn’t happening this wasn’t happening….</p><p>She shook her head. “It’s too late for that. We’re going to have to deliver like this.”</p><p>That did not sound good. “Or what?”</p><p>“We’re not there yet. I don’t want to worry you.”</p><p>“Anna!” Snufkin snapped. “Tell me.”</p><p>Anna looked right into his wide eyes. “Or we’ll have to do a Cesarean.”</p><p>“Here? In the middle of the woods‽” As much as Snufkin hated hospitals, he really wished he was in one now. A Cesarean would kill him, no question about it. And the baby would get an infection, and they needed him! What if they never found their way to Moominvalley? What if they had to grow up alone? He needed to get out of here, get to a hospital, find a doctor, find a midwife—he didn’t care how. He started to stand up.</p><p>Anna reached out and grabbed Snufkin’s knees. “Snufkin!” She shouted.</p><p>The mumrik froze, staring at her.</p><p>“We’re not going to think about that unless we have to, and we don’t have to. Focus on the now.”</p><p>He nodded. His breath stumbled out of him.</p><p>“Promise me they’ll be okay.”</p><p>Anna opened her mouth. Closed it again. She squeezed Snufkin’s trembling paw in her own.</p><p>“I will do absolutely everything I can.”</p><p>The latex tugged at his fur. He closed his eyes and squeezed back.</p><p>“Thank you, Anna.”</p><p>“Annikki.”</p><p>Snufkin looked down.</p><p>The mymble gave a wan smile. “My friends call me Annikki. And I think this,” she gestured vaguely, “makes us friends.”</p><p>“Okay.” Snufkin’s lips curled. “Annikki,” he mused, “That’s a nice name.”</p><p>The Fillyjonk came back, lugging what must have been the heaviest picnic basket in the world, as quickly as his thin legs could carry him.</p><p>“I have sandwiches and apples and water and mushrooms and—”</p><p>“Setä!” Anna scolded.</p><p>The Fillyjonk dropped the basket with a great <em>thud</em> and began pulling out an impossible amount of <em>stuff</em>: paper bags of food, bottles of water, a folded-up quit, vodka, towels and flannels, honey, matches, a bucket of ice, two oil lamps, and a large tin bowl. Snufkin may have been an expert packer, but he did not understand how all of that fit inside. Annikki nodded as the Fillyjonk unpacked.</p><p>Annikki smiled to Snufkin. “You should eat.”</p><p>He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”</p><p>“You’re not going to be able to start pushing for a few more hours. Eat and get some rest.”</p><p>She turned to her uncle. “You said you had sandwiches?”</p><p>The Fillyjonk nodded. “Italiensk salat, lemon herring, and sommersalat.”</p><p>Annikki smiled and nodded toward the paper bag. Snufkin grabbed the herring sandwich. The fish was pickled, sweet. Freshly caught fish was always the best, but right now nothing tasted better than this sandwich. He closed his eyes in rapture.</p><p>Annikki held her gloved hands up by her shoulders as the Fillyjonk fed her the italiensk sandwich. At Snufkin’s confused expression, she swallowed and explained. “I only have one pair of gloves on me and I have to keep them clean.”</p><p>Snufkin hummed.</p><p>Snufkin and Annikki ate, and then the Fillyjonk when he had his paws free.</p><p>“You should sleep.” Annikki wiped some mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.</p><p>The mumrik shook his head. “I’m not tired.”</p><p>“Sleep while you can, Snufkin.” She fiddled with the baby hairs falling out of her crown of braids. “It’s a long day, and it’ll be a long night.”</p><p>Beside the fire, the Fillyjonk snored.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Snufkin had never been so tired in his life. How long had it been? Inge hadn’t taken so long. What time was it? It had been dark for hours. Snufkin tried to center himself by focusing on the stars.</p><p>Anna kept saying “One last push, just one more push, one more, only one more…”</p><p>It must have been “one more time” fifteen times.</p><p>Suddenly there was crying. A horrible, throaty wail. Snufkin needed to see them. He needed to hold them. Were they okay? <em>Were they okay?</em></p><p>But Snufkin wasn’t holding them. Annikki had taken them away.</p><p>She called over the screams, “Baby has a dislocated hip—I need to reduce it.”</p><p>Snufkin needed to hold his child. He fought the agony all through his body. He needed to get to them.</p><p>Annikki shouted. “Setä! Hold him down!”</p><p>The Fillyjonk’s trembling arms locked around him. Snufkin thrashed and fought, but he was in too much pain, too tired, too weak. He couldn’t get out.</p><p>A sickening <em>crack</em>. Terrible, terrible shrieking.</p><p>Snufkin’s blood curdled. He needed to see his child. Hold them, keep them safe, protect them from their terrible pain.</p><p>Annikki laid the baby, all wrapped in messy towels, on Snufkin’s chest.</p><p>They were so small.</p><p>That was the first thing Snufkin noticed. They wre so, so small—Inge hadn’t been nearly as small. They came into the world so early. They were all joxter and troll, with bright feline eyes and dark velvety skin. A line of fur trailed down their back to their long tail . Their hips and legs were bruised heavily, twisting Snufkin’s heart. The child cried and cried, showing their pointed teeth. What a set of lungs! Snufkin squeezed them as tightly as he dared. Their tiny paw grasped his finger, and he knew he was a goner.</p><p>He could already tell they were going to be trouble. Marvelous.</p><p>Annikki interrupted his thoughts. “Setä, hold the baby?”</p><p>Snufkin squeezed them tighter.</p><p>The mymble gave him a sympathetic look. “We have to deliver the placenta. Then we can take you home and get a doctor to take a look at you.”</p><p>Snufkin whined as his child was taken from his arms but couldn’t bring himself to fight as Annikki coached him through the last of his contractions—he was more tired than he had ever been in his life. His mind drifted away from him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Snufkin awoke in an unfamiliar bed in unfamiliar clothes, his body unbelievably sore. He tried to trace his memories back to understand what was happening.</p><p>He felt like his entire body was thrown into ice water.</p><p>He had a baby.</p><p>Where was his baby?</p><p>Before he knew it, Snufkin was standing up on shaky legs, blinding pain erupting through him. Something warm rushed between his legs, but he paid it no mind.</p><p>
  <em>Where was his baby? </em>
</p><p>With all the time he enjoyed in his solitude, Snufkin could not comprehend him being in one room and them in another.</p><p>Through the doorway, Snufkin could see Annikki chat with a Hemulen in a white coat. The Fillyjonk sat in a cushy armchair, holding some blankets.</p><p>The Fillyjonk jumped up. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed?”</p><p>“Where are they?” There was an animalistic growl in Snufkin’s voice that he had never heard before.</p><p>The Fillyjonk furrowed his brow for a moment before lifting his arms slightly. “He’s right here. But please sit down,” he insisted, his nerves plain.</p><p>Snufkin all but snatched his child from the Fillyjonk’s arms.</p><p>Annikki hurried over to Snufkin. “Snufkin! You’re on bedrest!” </p><p>The Hemul gave the mumrik a once-over. Snufkin stared back, his harsh gaze undermined by newborn in his paws.</p><p>Snufkin sat on the couch, wincing. Sitting was a mistake. He leaned back on the sofa arm, laying his child across his chest. He leveled his eyes at the Hemul.</p><p>Annikki glanced between them awkwardly. “Snufkin, Doctor Hemulen; Doctor Hemulen, Snufkin.” She rubbed her neck. “Though I suppose you already knew that, Doctor.”</p><p>The Hemul huffed.</p><p>The Fillyjonk’s blurted out, “Who wants tea? I just made some tea. It’s good. Rosehip.”</p><p>Annikki gave him a smile. “I think tea would do us all some good.”</p><p>The Fillyjonk rushed off to the kitchen.</p><p>The Hemul spoke again, his voice deep and haughty. “Your exam came up very well, sir.”</p><p>Snufkin didn’t miss the slight pause before the “sir.”</p><p>“You have some tearing, which is to be expected from the,” he paused, “nature of your delivery. I repaired a small laceration in your birth canal, and the extensions will repair on their own. Wash them with gentle soap and water—no lye. You should make a full recovery.”</p><p>The child in Snufkin’s arms sneezed. “And my baby?”</p><p>The Doctor stiffly exhaled. “Your son was born a few weeks early, though due to his breed it’s difficult to know how many. What I do know is that he’s having a bit of trouble keeping warm, so always keep him bundled up and put a hot water bottle in his crib. His right hip dislocated during labor, which Miss Mymble reduced. He also has a small fracture on the left collarbone, so be mindful of that. The area is still very tender, and there is a lot of bruising. All these injuries should recover by six weeks.”</p><p>The Hemul leveled his eyes at Snufkin. “What concerns me, however, is the potential development of a nervous conditions. Nerves can be damaged in a difficult birth. Keep a close eye on him and watch how he moves. If anything seems strange,” he slipped a card between Snufkin’s fingers, “telephone my office.”  </p><p>“Your son is very lucky. You both are.” The Hemul offered a smile Snufkin knew was supposed to be comforting, but it was cold, distant. Professional.</p><p>Snufkin thought he would be able to handle hearing this news. They would heal, and if they developed problems later, it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, Inge had inherited his twisted leg and he was as rambunctious and carefree as any child. And Snufkin knew that when he started getting pains he would have all the help and support that he needed. But this little creature, this bruised and broken thing—they were hurt through his own carelessness. If he has paid better attention and noticed what was happening then he would have taken better care of himself and if he took better care of himself then maybe they wouldn’t have come into the world so early and if they weren’t so early then maybe they would have had a safer and easier time entering the world and not be so terribly, terribly hurt.</p><p>Snufkin wanted to help, to do and say everything just right. To ask all the smart questions and get all the information he needed and help his child as much as possible. But all that came of his mouth was, dumbly:</p><p>“I don’t have a telephone.”</p><p>The Hemul blinked.</p><p>Snufkin swallowed. “My, uh, sister has one, though. I could use that.”</p><p>“Tea is ready,” the Fillyjonk announced.</p><p>Annikki handed the Hemul the baby and helped Snufkin sit up. She gave him a cup of tea.</p><p>He took a sip. Roses.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next few days Snufkin spent on bedrest, going out of his mind. He slept and ached and worried. He admired his child, held them and fed them and wiped away their spit-up. All his meals were brought to him in bed. The only time he got to walk was when he took his agonizing excursions to the restroom.</p><p>As the baby slept, Snufkin wrote letters. Letter after letter, all made out to:</p><p>
  <em>Moomintroll</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Moominhouse</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Moominvalley</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please don’t be alarmed…. Unexpected…. Recover shortly…. Be back soon…. </em>
</p><p>Letter after letter Snufkin asked to be sent, handing them off to the Fillyjonk and looting through his bag for the meager pennies he had to pay for postage: a favor which was refused every time.</p><p>Annikki took care of them around the clock. She cooked his food, cleaned his wounds, watched the baby when he couldn’t. Snufkin didn’t know when it was that she slept. He was pretty certain her hair had been in the same braid for days.</p><p>Snufkin knew he didn’t look any better though: stuck in unfamiliar clothes stained with baby spit-up, with filthy hair and greasy skin and a sagging belly and the deepest undereye bags he’d had since Inge was born.</p><p>But none of that mattered.</p><p>All that mattered was the small child in the makeshift crib beside him.  </p><p>Little baby Annikki, named for the bravest woman Snufkin had ever known, suckling on Snufkin’s pinkie while their foot twitched idly.</p><p>They were all that mattered.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Which an Important Introduction Is Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I have a name,” said Snufkin, eyes and voice soft.</p><p>Moomintroll was stumped. “…Yes?”</p><p>“For the baby.”</p><p>“For the <em>what?</em>”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Autumn winter chilled the air with the promise of winter. Orange leaves flew upon the breeze. A lone bumblebee flitted about quietly, buzzing right past Snufkin’s ear. The mumrik hugged the precious bundle under his coat tighter. His footsteps were short, uneven, shaky—but he needed to keep pushing. He had already been away too long.</p><p>Snufkin looked at the tiny infant his arms, swaddled in scrap fabric and tied to his chest with his scarf. Under the blanket, Snufkin’s spare shirt had been nobly sacrificed to make diapers.</p><p>“Time to meet your Pappa, little one,” he murmured. “Let’s hope you’re charming enough to keep him from staying too cross with me.”</p><p>He passed over the bridge.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Moomintroll should never have let Snufkin leave alone. He should have come with. Mamma always complained about not seeing Inge enough, even though all that child did was chew through her furniture. Or Alicia—she was his favorite, the only person who understood his organizational methodology.</p><p>He sat on the porch of Moominhouse, where he and Inge—busy stacking rocks into a great spire—had been staying since Snufkin’s…disappearance. Moomintroll needed help watching the young troll.</p><p>He needed Snufkin.</p><p>Where had he gone? He was supposed to be back home an entire week ago! Moomintroll would understand if he came back a day late—the mumrik could have gotten a flare-up and needed to slow his pace or pause. But a <em>week!</em>—and not a word! Moomintroll had worried himself sick. What if he hurt himself? What if he got arrested? What if he got attacked by a wild animal?</p><p>Something had gone terribly wrong.</p><p>Moomintroll realized he was tugging at the tuft of fur on his tail and sat on his paws. He tried to focus on Inge: how his pudgy little fingers could barely hold the stones, but he was still so determined.</p><p>He got that from his dad.</p><p>A figure emerged through the wood.</p><p>A familiar figure, with a long coat and tall, wide-brimmed hat.  </p><p>Moomintroll jumped up onto his feet and ran out into the yard.</p><p>Snufkin hurried to meet him.</p><p>Moomintroll rested his paws on Snufkin’s shoulders, squeezed him to make sure he was real. He checked him over for any sign of injury. The mumrik chuckled.</p><p>He looked okay!</p><p>But then… why had he been gone for so long? With no word?</p><p>Moomintroll almost wished Snufkin <em>had</em> been attacked by some wild animal, to excuse him from his silent absence.</p><p>The troll shoved aside his frustration to make room for gratitude that his partner was here and home all in one piece. He began to pull him in for a hug.</p><p>Snufkin gently pushed him away.</p><p>Moomintroll shook his head. What was happening?</p><p>What <em>happened</em> at the hot springs?</p><p>Snufkin’s paw rested on Moomintroll’s forearm. “Careful,” he chided, a small smile on his face.</p><p>What was he talking about? Why was he acting like nothing happened? Did he get hurt? Was that why he was missing?</p><p>But he looked healthy, fed, warm—just dirty and tired. Very tired.   </p><p>Snufkin rolled his lips between his teeth the way he did when he was excited, his eyes bright.</p><p>“Can I sit?” the mumrik asked.</p><p>Moomintroll furrowed his brow. “Wh-yeah, of course you can sit.” His words were stilted.</p><p>Snufkin nodded and made his way to the porch swing. The wince and shifting around as he sat didn’t go un-noticed, and neither did the way he perched himself on the very edge of bench as opposed to curling his legs up beside him as he normally did.</p><p>Moomintroll sat down beside him.</p><p>Snufkin looked down in his lap.</p><p>“I have a name,” he said, eyes and voice soft.</p><p>Moomintroll was stumped. “…Yes?”</p><p>“For the baby.”</p><p>“For the <em>what</em>.”</p><p>Snufkin’s head shot up. His eyes were needles.</p><p>“Did you—did you not get my letters?”</p><p>Moomintroll was baffled. “What letters?”</p><p>Snufkin avoided eye contact, looking slightly to the left of Moomintroll’s face the way he did when a conversation got uncomfortable. “I’ve been writing letters to you all week—did you not get them?”</p><p>“We’re in between mail-men right now! Little My just chased off the last one a few days ago—no-one’s getting any letters!”</p><p>Snufkin slowly rocked back and forth. Calming himself.</p><p>“Inge?” the mumrik called out.</p><p>The child looked up from where he was playing.</p><p>“Do you want to go inside and see Moominfarmor?” His voice was light but Moomintroll could hear the strain behind it.</p><p>Inge pouted. “’M busy.”</p><p>“Please, little one?”</p><p>Inge sagged but complied, plodding up the ramp into Moominhouse.</p><p>The door clicked shut.</p><p>Moomintroll exhaled. Snufkin closed his eyes.</p><p>A high-pitched whine emanated from his coat.</p><p>Snufkin grimaced, rubbed his eyes, before un-doing the first few of his large buttons. He reached inside.</p><p>Moomintroll saw the way his shoulders relaxed when he looked inside.</p><p>Was he expecting? Was that the news? But then why did he take so long? Did it make him sick? Injured? But a <em>week</em>! And why so many letters?</p><p>Did he lose the baby?</p><p>But why was Snufkin so calm, so chipper?</p><p>“I never went in the hot springs.”</p><p>Moomintroll nodded slowly.</p><p>“Those pains I was having… it was false labor.”</p><p>The troll felt his breath escape him.</p><p>Snufkin hugged himself. “I went to the springs and the pain got worse.” He hugged tighter. “And my water broke.”</p><p>Moomintroll sucked in through his teeth.</p><p>“A man found me and fetched his niece, Annikki—she’s training to be a nurse. She was great help.”</p><p>Moomintroll held the delicate pieces of the story together, trying to slot them into place. They didn’t fit.</p><p>“Where did you—”</p><p>“In the woods.”</p><p>Getting his heart ripped out would have hurt less hearing than those words.</p><p>Snufkin squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face tight. “We were in the woods.”</p><p>Moomintroll pressed their knees against each other.</p><p>The mumrik shook his head, clearing away his thoughts like they were written in sand.</p><p>“Anyway, that’s why I was gone for so long. We went to the fillyjonk’s house. We needed to rest.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Snufkin. </em>
</p><p>Moomintroll couldn’t think of a more terrifying situation: to be gripped in the agony of childbirth with no explanation, to be stuck with strangers in the middle of the woods…</p><p>To not have his partner to hold him.</p><p>Snufkin parted the front of his coat, showing a small bundle tied crossbody to his chest.</p><p>“Would you like to see them?”</p><p>Every muscle in Moomintroll’s body turned to jelly. He nodded, mouth agape.</p><p>Snufkin carefully—so carefully—shifted the swaddled bundle into his arms. “It’s alright, my sweet,” he cooed.</p><p>He tilted the bundle ever so slightly to let Moomintroll take a look.</p><p>The troll’s heart stopped.</p><p>Of course, he knew it was coming but he couldn’t have prepared himself for this: seeing his child for the first time.</p><p>They were the most beautiful creature in the world, dark blotches of skin all covered in black downy velvet, a flat face and tiny, tiny nose, their long ears closed and folded over their eyes.</p><p>They were swaddled in bleach-stained flannel. Scrap fabric.</p><p>Their nose scrunched up. The baby sneezed.</p><p>Moomintroll melted. He felt as if everything in his body had just been scooped out to make room for the love he felt for this tiny creature.</p><p>Moomintroll prayed for his paws to stop shaking. He reached out. “Can I hold them?”</p><p>Snufkin pressed his lips together. Looked down at the infant. Back up at Moomintroll. “You have to be careful about it; they dislocated their right hip and fractured their left collarbone when they were born, so you can’t—”</p><p>“They <em>what!?</em>” Moomintroll’s blood ran cold.</p><p>Snufkin’s face fell. “They were early. Came out breech.” He stroked their tiny round cheek with his thumb. Their little lips wrapped around his fingertip.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Snufkin….</em>
</p><p>No wonder he was—they were—gone so long. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that was. Moomintroll had been so scared when Inge was born, fretting and just trying to put on a tough face to help his partner; Snufkin was so brave, so strong. He didn’t know how the mumrik did it.</p><p>How did he do <em>this</em> without him?</p><p>Moomintroll wrapped his arm around Snufkin. He didn’t have any words.  </p><p>“Can I hold them?”</p><p>The mumrik shifted in his embrace. Smiled.</p><p>Snufkin slowly transferred the infant to Moomintroll. He looked at them: two of his three greatest loves.</p><p>Moomintroll stared at the child in his arms. They were so, so small, much smaller than Inge when he was born. And they were already a week old.</p><p>Moomintroll already missed the first week of their life.</p><p>All he wanted to do now was squeeze them tight and never let go.</p><p>But they were so delicate, and Snufkin’s eyes were wide and nervous, waiting for the slightest slip or whine to step in.</p><p>He was a bear and they were his cub.</p><p>And Moomintroll was… absent.</p><p>His eyes stung, flooding with tears that threatened to fall down and stain his fur. His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.</p><p>In his trembling arms, the infant began to wail, their injured body jostled.</p><p>In an instant, the child was in Snufkin’s paws.</p><p>Moomintroll stared at his empty arms.</p><p>Beside him, he heard Snufkin shush and hum to the baby. Their cries stopped after a moment, replaces with quiet sniffles and cooing.</p><p>Snufkin turned to Moomintroll. “Are you okay?”</p><p>He wanted to reach out, to comfort his shaking partner, but his paws were full, and Snufkin didn’t want to jostle the child any more than he needed to when they were hurting. For lack of a better comfort, he crossed his ankle with Moomintroll’s, leaned his head on his sloped shoulder. His white fur smelled like laundry soap.</p><p>Moomintroll shuddered. Took a deep breath in, out. He stopped crying, but his eyes were still wet.</p><p>“You said you had a name?”</p><p>Snufkin nodded against the troll’s shoulder. “Anna.”</p><p>Moomintroll smiled a wet smile. “Anna.”</p><p>“Annikki to their friends.”</p><p>Moomintroll rested his head on top of Snufkin’s.</p><p>“It’s perfect.”</p><p>Snufkin hummed.</p><p>“They’re perfect.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! I’ve had this finished for about two weeks but needed to wait until I published “Ginger Tea and Meadowsweet” and I’m so glad to share this one with you all!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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